


Odes by Anonymous

by D20Owlbear



Series: A Lost Octodecimo [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anonymous Poems, Love Poems, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other, Pine scented, Poems from A Lost Octodecimo, Yearning, but I wanted a place for these so I didn't lose them, which hasn't been posted yet so fite me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: A collection of poems through the ages, a hand-written Octodecimo book, hand-bound, and carefully preserved.An author's name isn't included, and it seems quite a bit like a personal poem book that has somehow found itself in Aziraphale's bookshop. How odd that he doesn't recognize it.This is only the poems, the full fic will be published under the name "A Lost Octodecimo" and added into the series





	1. An Ode Against Love

#####  _ An Ode Against Love _

An Ode against that which  
Leaves me breathless,   
That which causes my heart  
To ache so sweetly,  
That which brings me to my knees  
In sorrow and in relief. 

An Ode for thee, who makes  
My blessèd lungs pine  
For thee pressed against me,   
And pull from my lips a whine. 

An Ode against love  
For thee, whom I love.  
So, fiercely I will love and live   
In wretched despair,  
If only, my love, the hands thine  
Wouldst but graze mine  
In soft nights hence.

If only, my love mine,  
Wouldst thou bestow thy adoration  
Upon any thing of sky, land, or sea  
If I might but gaze at thee. 

If only, my most beloved,  
Though wouldst love me.


	2. Chapter 2

#####  ** _How Do Ye Go?_ **

How softly the sigh I long to hear   
Upon winds that have never been blown.   
How gentle the breath against my ear   
Filled with longing that has never been owned. 

How resolutely beats thine heart  
And how pointedly not along with mine,   
How I yearn and long to be filled  
To the brim by your love divine. 

How do ye go, along downy hillock  
Where clover and sweet grasses grow?   
Surely not the same as me  
Who watches you so well from below.

How do ye hold thine heart?  
Surely, better than I do mine,  
Which hath escaped me upon meeting  
And lost to thee, placed atop thy shrine.

How do ye keep abreast of me,  
Walking so slow, meandering?  
Do I go too fast even still, my dove?  
Or is it simply that my love, to you, is slandering? 


End file.
